


Have yourself a merry little christmas

by debbiesocean



Category: The House with a Clock in its Walls
Genre: Christmas, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 08:19:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debbiesocean/pseuds/debbiesocean
Summary: "I'm letting you have cookies before supper because daddy is in Chicago for work until Christmas Eve and I think us girls should go a bit wild," Florence smirked, a gleam in her eyes. She watched Rosemary nod furiously, her brunette curls bouncing up and down. She was a spitting image of her mother. Blue eyes, brown hair that curls at the ends. Even her personality was intact.





	Have yourself a merry little christmas

December 1927

High Street, New Zebedee, Michigan.

The paper read that the air was particularly chillier than average Christmas week, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. Florence had her now six-year-old daughter Rosemary bundled up as snug as she could've gotten her when she sent her to last day of school before winter break but was disillusioned to see her stumble off the school bus in the afternoon with half the amount of layers on than she left in.

"Now I told you ma jolie it's freezing out here. Where's that scarf I had on you this morning, hmm?" She hummed, her arms wrapping tightly around her little girl. She was her whole world, nothing could lessen her love for her.

"I don't know mommy," Rosemary answered, sighing quietly. Florence knew what it meant. She had a question on her mind. That was her Rosemary, always so inquisitive since the day she was born. "If it's freezing then why are we still outside?" Florence smiled and pulled back, bending down to her daughter's level.

"You make an excellent point my dear." She smiled, tapping her little nose with her gloved index finger. Rosemary let out a giggle. "Let's go in and get you warmed up." She stood back up and placed a hand on Rosemary's shoulder, leading her up the slippery steps to the front door. "Mommy made you a fresh batch of cookies today and I'm positive I can whip you up a cup of hot chocolate to go with it in no time. How's that sound?"

"Cookies before supper?" Rosemary gasped. She threw her coat off the second she entered the house, her boots shortly thereafter. It hardly mattered how many times her mother told her to hang her coat on the rack and leave her boots on the mat to dry. She still would leave them scattered on the wood floor. Some things never stick. Florence flashed her a glare, one eyebrow raised. Her daughter never had to be told twice. She knew what the look was and didn't dare challenge it. The little girl picked her navy coat and stood on her toes to drape it over the dark wood rack before pushing her boots into their spot with her feet.

"I'm letting you have cookies before supper because daddy is in Chicago for work until Christmas Eve and I think us girls should go a bit wild," Florence smirked, a gleam in her eyes. She watched Rosemary nod furiously, her brunette curls bouncing up and down. She was a spitting image of her mother. Blue eyes, brown hair that curls at the ends. Even her personality was intact. It drove her husband insane sometimes how similar the two of them were. He would always say  _ Florence, if she's anything like you were as a teenager we might have a problem on our hands. _ There was no denying that either. No doubt in the couple's minds that Rosemary would be a heartbreaker by age fifteen. Even in her first year of school, she would often come home saying she had a new boyfriend, much to her father's sarcastic disapproval. She was such a social butterfly and had everyone she met wrapped around her little finger, but no one wrapped tighter than Florence.

No less than six cookies later, the mother-daughter pair were dancing around the front room to the Christmas carols spinning on the record player. Florence had promised Rosemary that they would decorate the Christmas tree after her last day before winter break because the six-year-old wanted to help plan every detail. Florence was happy to have a little helper. She had always decorated the tree herself until Rosemary turned four and practically begged to hang some tinsel. 

Florence watched Rosemary skip around the boxes of ornaments and garland, her eyes carefully focused on her feet to ensure she wouldn’t step on anything and break it. She was notoriously clumsy after all. She finally decided to intervene after her feet got too close for comfort to a box of irreplaceable holiday heirlooms.

“What color did you have on your mind for this year?” Florence asked, stopping her daughter from frolicking around. Too much glass was around the room to let her continue. She grabbed her hand and let her spin around in a quick motion, the hem of her green-plaid dress whirling around her.

“Do we have pink decorations?” Rosemary suggested, her feet still taking her in clumsy pirouettes.

“Sadly not enough to do the entire tree. But we could do pink and another color if you’d like.” Florence answered. Rosemary stopped spinning abruptly and stepped up onto her mother’s toes.

“You pick the second color.” She smiled as  _ Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas _ switched on. She knew it was her mother’s favorite. In fact, any Frank Sinatra Christmas song was her favorite. Florence laced her fingers through her daughter’s and started to step around the room with her on her feet.

“Baby blue goes well with pink.” Florence decided after a moment. Rosemary nodded in agreement. Florence continued to carry the two of them to the melody of her best-loved Christmas song.  

 

_ Have yourself a merry little Christmas _

_ Let your heart be light _

_ From now on, our troubles will be out of sight _

 

“Mommy?” Rosemary asked, craning her neck to look up. Florence steadied her feet and lifted up her daughter onto her hip. She stepped over to the edge of the lavender colored armchair and sat down, settling her girl on her lap. With her arms wrapped snugly around her torso, she held her as close as she could. She thrived on little moments like these. No feeling would ever come close to these tender memories with her favorite girl. Not even her magic came within reach, not that Rosemary had any idea her mother was a witch. She gave it up when she found out she was pregnant. It was far too dangerous to toy with magic with a child in the house. Finally, with her chin rested on Rosemary’s shoulder she replied, “Yes, Rosie?”

“Why do you love this song?” She inquired.

“Suppose I just like the words.” Which was true, but there was much more behind Florence’s answer. The lyrics brought her back to Christmastime seven years prior when she found out she was going to have a baby. It was her favorite gift, her little child inside her. Almost exactly at the moment when she received the news, she told her husband that it would be best to give up their magic. She so perfectly recalled when she listened to  _ Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas  _ just hours later. The words brought tears to her eyes thinking about how precious the next years of her life would be. No magic, just peace with a baby, troubles out of sight. The Christmases to follow would be the merriest Florence had ever experienced, with a little baby to love and cherish.

“Then I like the words too.” Rosemary decided. She wiggled out of her mother’s grip and wandered over to a box slightly ajar at the base of the tree. “I found the pink orn-da-ments mommy!” She said enthusiastically, struggling slightly on the big word. It brought a smile to Florence’s face.

“Yes, you did!” Florence replied. She stood from the chair and straightened out her purple dress before kneeling next to Rosemary and pulling the top off of the appropriately colored pink ribboned box. “Say, do you know who these pink ornaments belonged to?” There was a pause long enough for Rosemary to slip a small  _ who?  _ from her lips. “Your great-grandma Eliza. She loved pink almost as much as I love purple.” 

“I love pink more than you love purple,” Rosemary added, a smile forming on her face.

“Is that so?” Florence playfully responded, a challenging eyebrow raised. “Let’s decorate the tree before we get into an argument.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was absolutely fascinated by Florence's background in the film because she didn't have much in the book series. I wanted to extend on it with my own characterization of her daughter so I hope you enjoyed it! I might do more in the future if I get positive feedback so comments are always appreciated!


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